Boys Don't Cry
by I.M. Elizabeth
Summary: He always appeared so strong to her, and yet now he was breaking before her very eyes.  Mello/OC   Slight Matt/MaleOC


It'd been hours since Layla had slept, her eyes aching with sleeplessness. Mello had been gone for almost two days and she stared at the red crucifix in her hand. She couldn't sleep without him in their tiny flat, his warm body against hers in the bed.

Worry gripped her like a demon and she sighed, curling up on the couch and pressing the crucifix to her heart. He'd never really been to specific when it came to Mafia business, he just left, and told her he'd be back.

Under normal circumstances Mello would return in about six hours, saying nothing to her, but having a large amount of Chinese takeout with him, Matt and her brother Mika following close behind. No matter how much she pestered her brother and friend neither ever spoke about their so called missions. She suspected Mello told them to keep their mouth shut about it around her.

But it had been two days, not a word from anyone and she feared that she might have lost everyone dear to her.

However, as soon as the thought gripped her she heard a lock being inserted in the door, and it opened to reveal Mello, looking angry, and no takeout in hand. Mika followed close behind, holding an injured Matt in his arms. Blood soaked the area around his knee, bits of glass sticking out of it, and she moved quickly to allow Mika to place Matt on the couch.

"What the hell happened?" she snapped, Mello's rosary swinging in her hand.

"There was a huge problem," Matt stated before Mello could speak, "Mello was hired to do a hit on some mafia traitor who had a bone to pick with Mello for dead members when he set off that grenade. We were helping."

She looked questioningly at Mello, who refused to meet her eyes. He disappeared into the bedroom after a moment, slamming the door heavily behind him.

"What else?" she asked, looking at Matt and Mika who was gingerly picking glass out of Matt's knee.

"This guy had all this crazy shit about you, me, Mello and Mika. So had we get to him right? And see, Mello wasn't supposed to kill him, he was supposed to bring him to some Italian mafia guy. So yesterday Mello tracked him down, and planned to get rid of all things that point back to us. We get to his hideout right? And Mello gets to him, threatens to cut his head off, you know how Mello goes. And this guy we're chasing after is really mad, so out of no where he starts like waving your picture in Mello's face saying, ''I know her name. I know your girl's name. You let me live and I don't kill her right now, I told my associate where she lives. He'll get Kira to kill her if I don't.'' "

Layla swallowed hard, and glanced at the shut door. No wonder Mello seemed so angry. "Well, what happen to your leg?" she asked as her brother began to bandage the wound up with an almost motherly gentleness.

"I'm getting to that aren't I?" Matt stated, "Anyway, you know Mello. Always fucking jumps before he considers anything. So, he pulls out his pistol and fucking blows the guy's head off. So out of nowhere we hear someone come in and we think its the feds, so we run out like chickenshits, turns out it was the guy's broad. But anywho, when we ran out I fell in some busted glass and now my knee's all fucked."

Mika, who was usually quiet then spoke up, his accent was almost as thick as her own. "We spent the next days looking for his associate that he spoke of but we couldn't find too much. Mello decided it'd be wiser if we stay here to protect you or something."

Matt fell back onto the couch, looking exhausted as he pulled his goggles up over his eyes, "You might wanna talk to him and get this all sorted out, he's pretty angry."

She nodded, trying not to seem a little jealous as Matt gently pulled her brother against his chest, placing a kiss on the tip of his nose.

Layla turned her back on the lovers, and then turned her attention on her own lover.

Opening the door to the bedroom, she half expected to see Mello asleep, instead he was awake, sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at a small photograph that looked like it had been cut out of a newspaper. There were speckles of blood on a corner of it and she winced.

"You hungry?" she asks gently, still standing in the doorway.

"Get out." he snapped, crumpling the newspaper in his fist.

"Mello," she murmured, crawling on the bed to reach his side, "Its okay."

He slapped her hands away, "I told you get out. Go away."

Still, she persisted, reaching out her hands to stroke at Mello's soft blond hair, to touch the scar that littered his face and shoulder.

"Mello," she said again, pressing her lips to his temple, "I love you."

In return, he knocked her completely off of the bed. She couldn't help but wince in pain as her butt hit the hardwood floor. His rosary clattered to the ground and slid under the bed.

"That's exactly the problem!" Mello snapped, towering over her. "You stupid, stupid fucking idiot. Why can't you ever just leave me be! I hate that you love me! I fucking hate it. You had to follow me didn't you? When I left Wammy's you couldn't just leave everything the way it was. Oh no. Not you Layla. Not you. Instead you came and fucking found me."

She stood, her grey eyes venomous with rage. "I saved your life you ungrateful ass."

It was true too, she and Matt had been the ones to pull Mello from the wreckage that had left him scarred, she had been the one who had tediously nursed Mello back to health, studying burns and healing, staying up countless nights to watch him as he slept to make sure he wouldn't die.

"Only because you can't ever do anything alone!" Mello snarled, "You can't do a goddamned thing by yourself. You couldn't speak english without me in Wammy's, I spent fucking hours tutoring your ignorant self. You know as well as I do that L. never took you in because you were smart like the rest of us. He took you in because you were so fucking pathetic. Everyone felt sorry for you, poor little dumb estonian girl, can't speak english and paints pictures all day. And whenever anyone messed with you who had to take the bullshit for it? Me. And you know nothing has really fucking changed either...I'm still fixing all your fucking mistakes."

He was breathing heavily now, his chest heaving.

Layla had stood up again, her eyes still full of anger, but now hurt lingered behind it. "So, that's how you feel...fine..I leave. I stop making you have to fix mistakes. I'll plaster my picture all over the paper so Kira can get me. Then, when I'm dead, you'll have no more worries."

She turned to reach the door, and quicker than she could say her own name Mello threw her out of the way of the door.

"Don't you fucking walk away from me!" he snarled, "Don't you ever fucking turn your back on me."

"What the fuck do you want from me Mello?" she yelled out, slamming her fists angrily on his chest. "You say you want me to go. You say you wish I left. Now I try to leave and you stop me!"

"You're going to be killed because of me." he said thickly.

She faltered then, the emotion in his voice surprising her.

"I'm a dangerous man." he said suddenly, dropping his hold on her shoulder and backing away from her. He stared at his hands blankly, and dropped his head.

It took Layla a few moments to realize that in all its astonishing reality Mello was about to cry. She'd never ever seen him cry, not even when L had died. He never cried, she was the one who cried at everything, the one who got upset over nothing and bawled all day over a mean word or two.

Mello was always the strong one, the one who nothing could break, and here he was, breaking before her very eyes.

"Mihael..." she murmured, his birth name tasting a little odd and foreign on her tongue. She reached out her arms and pulled him against her. "Oh god Mello, don't cry."

He wouldn't look up at her, his blond head bowed. She rocked him against her, kissing the top of his head, and stroking his hair, long blond strands getting tangled in her fingers.

"I shot that guy." he said thickly, "I-I...I just...reacted." the words are spilling out of his mouth now, to fast for him to stop. "He said he'd kill you and I shot him. Like...like you know, like a game at first. Like, ha ha, you're dead now. And then when we were running, his girl comes in and starts screaming, and crying."

He took a shuddering gasp, and pressed his palms hard against his eyes, as if trying to push the image out of his head. "She was crying his name, and I could just see her like kneeling over his body...it reminded me of that time I was messing with you when we were children and I pretended to be dead and you freaked out. I kept thinking, Jesus, what have I just done? I mean, sure the guy was a scumbag and a waste but someone out there loved him...like me and you, you know? And, I took that away from them in an instant. And when we were driving home, I kept thinking, every life I've taken, someone loved those people, and I've busted that up for them."

"Mello..." she said suddenly, now close to crying herself, "You did what you had to, to keep us alive. That's all that can be expected now."

"You need to stay away from me," he said suddenly, "I'm so dangerous...and if people already know you're close to me they'll hurt you."

Without warning she hugged him gently, he didn't respond really, just sighed.

"And all this time I had been thinking you didn't care at all," she teased, poking his cheek.

He clicked his tongue disdainfully and pulled away from her, standing and pulling his shirt over his head. "God you're thick," he muttered, "If I honestly didn't care why would I waste so much time appeasing you with all this emotional nonsense."

She laughed slightly, watching him pull out another shirt from the drawer and pulled it over his head. She began to find that his arrogant side was something she'd much rather see then the upset crying she had seen earlier.

Carefully, she slid off the bed and reached underneath it to grab for his rosary.

She stood, then gently placed it over his head, her hand lingering on the cross, and for the briefest of moments his hand came to rest very gently over hers, and she could have sworn she felt him squeeze her hand lightly.

She pressed her head against his chest for a moment, basking in the scent of him.

"Layla?" he murmured, his lips pressed against her ear.

"Hmm?"

"If you are going to stay, make yourself useful and go get me some chocolate."


End file.
